New Music
by Laura Mayfair
Summary: AU: Rated T. Adama/ Roslin. Kara/ Lee. Laura adopts young Kara Thrace and years later gets ready to meet her daughter's future father-in-law, Admiral Adama. The admiral and the Secretary of Education are not certain what to make of one another as the sparks fly. Work in progress.
1. Chapter 1

**Please don't be put off by the rather serious beginning...it was only to set the backdrop. It will lighten up. Please do be advised that the beginning does make references (not graphic) to child abuse.  
**

******Rating:** T  


**New Music  
**

**CHAPTER 1**

"So I'll see Ben - not next week, Mrs. Chandler, but the following." Laura ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. He laughed and began to make shark noises at her. They had been playing a fun little piece in a simple, five finger position called "Great White." Laura pretended to be terrified.

"Just when I thought it was safe to go back in the water!"

"Why can't I come next week?" asked Ben.

"Ben!" exclaimed his mother.

Laura laughed. "It's okay. Do you have any idea how fantastic it is to have such an enthusiastic student? Next Saturday I am spending the day with my sisters. But I'll see you for music class at school on Thursday and if you have any questions, I can always spare some time for you. How's that?"

"Okay," Ben answered with a little smile.

Turning to Mrs. Chandler, Laura beamed. "Ben's doing really well. He's such a great student. I wrote down exactly what we worked on in his notebook. There are a couple of music theory exercises in the workbook and he has two pieces to practice. Hands separately and then together."

"Thank you, Miss Laura," said his mother with a farewell wave. Laura watched mother and son descend her front steps. At that moment, her next student pulled up. With a frown, Laura observed the little towhead blonde and her mother getting out of the car. Kara Thrace was not a typical five year old. While most of her littlest students enjoyed an occasional hug, Kara shied away from any physical contact. Kara was extremely bright with her rapid-fire, inquisitiveness and unbridled curiosity. She was unusually disciplined for someone so young and extremely hard on herself when she made a mistake. Usually children that were so self-deprecating responded to praise - but not Kara. She seemed almost resentful of positive feedback, not just as if she didn't want it - but that she didn't deserve it.

"She didn't practice," Mrs. Thrace announced flatly as they approached the steps.

Ignoring the negative comment, Laura greeted the woman instead. "Hello, Mrs. Thrace." She squatted down to be at eye level with the little girl. "Hi Kara. Why don't you go inside and - " Laura noticed the bandage on Kara's left hand.

"Kara's so clumsy. She closed the lid of the piano on her fingers," explained Kara's mother. "Not enough to get her out of practicing. Or of coming to her lesson today."

"Kara, go inside and warm up, okay? Right hand only." Laura almost reached out to touch the child's shoulders and then remembered how Kara felt about being touched. When she heard Kara beginning to practice her scales, she turned to Mrs. Thrace.

"It's all right if she didn't practice, Mrs. Thrace. She's very young and my goal is to foster her interest in music, to encourage and motivate her, not to have unrealistic expectations and berate her." Laura couldn't help herself. She wanted to scream at the woman for her blatant insensitivity and callousness. The surest way to discourage a child from the piano was to make it feel like a chore. Laura constantly strove to bolster the confidence of her students - never to tear them down.

"I don't give a frak what your expectations are, Miss. Roslin. My daughter is not an average child. She needs structure and discipline. Don't you dare tell me how to raise my child." Mrs. Thrace's voice was shrill. "If you can't teach her properly, then I'll find someone who can," the woman threatened angrily.

Under any other circumstances, Laura would have continued to rationalize her arguments with a few choice words and she would have succinctly told off anyone who spoke to her that way. She was still fuming about Kara's mother being so unsympathetic to her daughter's injury, calling her "clumsy." It was cruel. But Mrs. Thrace was not a rational woman and, truthfully, Laura did not want to lose Kara as a student. She cared a great deal about the little girl and wanted to help her. She especially wanted to go talk to her and find out what had happened with her hand. Alienating Mrs. Thrace now would not be a good idea. So she swallowed back the torrent of things she wanted to say and hoped that she was doing a fair job at concealing her mounting anger.

"I understand perfectly. Kara and I had better get to work then. I'll see you in an hour." Laura didn't give the woman a chance to protest. She merely turned on her heel and went inside. Thankfully, Mrs. Thrace clomped to her car and drove away.

From the threshold of the door, Laura watched Kara as she sat at the piano, her injured hand was in her lap while she slowly played exercises with the right one. Laura moved her chair next to the piano bench, positioning it to the left hand side.

"I'll tell you what - I'll play the left hand harmony on your pieces today. It will be just like us playing a duet and we can just work on your right hand. I could use the practice, myself."

As was often the case, Kara was silent.

"Nice job with your warm ups, Kara." Laura gazed down at Kara's bandaged fingers. "How did you hurt your hand again?"

"I caught it in the drawer," Kara answered in a dry monotone as she looked straight ahead.

Laura's uneasiness grew. Kara's mother had said that her daughter had gotten her hand caught in the lid of the piano at home and now Kara was telling her that she had caught it in a drawer. Either Kara's mother was lying or Kara was confused. At thirty-two years old, Laura Roslin had been teaching music at a public school for the past ten years. She had been teaching private piano lessons since her teens. She knew kids' behavior and she had instincts that had been honed through experience. Her gut was telling her that there was something very, very wrong.

"Kara, could you look at me, sweetheart?," Laura asked gently. When Kara's frightened brown eyes met her worried green ones, Laura spoke again. "I want you to know that you can tell me anything. I'm your teacher and I care about you very much. If there is anything that you want to tell me about how you hurt your hand, or anything else - you can. I would really like to help you. Even if you're scared to tell me, I promise that it will be okay and I will help you fix it."

Kara sat perfectly still. Laura noticed that she was nervously scrunching up the hem of her white dress in her right hand, making a tight fist, and squeezing.

"I don't want to talk about it," Kara said after several seconds passed.

"Okay," Laura said. "But if you change your mind, I will be right here. We can talk anytime." Laura hoped that if she waited a little, that she could broach the subject again before the lesson was over and get Kara to open up.

"You were playing "Turkey Waltz," if I remember correctly?" Laura purposely mis-quoted the song title.

Kara emitted a small laugh. _"Butterfly_ Waltz," she corrected.

"Oh yes. A bunch of turkeys would look pretty silly waltzing, wouldn't they?"

Kara nodded as Laura opened up her book and turned to the correct page.

"Miss Laura?"

"Yes?"

"I did a bad thing," Kara informed her hesitantly as she continued to squeeze the hem of her dress.

"You want to tell me about it?," Laura coaxed.

Kara gazed at her teacher with a startlingly sad, contrite expression. "I wanted butterflies on the piano. Like in the song. So I drew them with the markers from the kitchen drawer." She waited for Laura to look horrified. When she didn't, she continued, "I thought it would wipe off like _my_ markers but Mama said that those ones are premre-per-mem-net."

"Permanent," whispered Laura.

"Yes," answered Kara. "Permemnet."

"Kara, that was an accident."

"I was bad," argued Kara firmly.

"How did you hurt your hand, honey?" Laura already knew the answer.

"Mama got mad when she found out what I did," whispered Kara. "She closed the piano down on my hand." Kara made a strangled cry that she couldn't stifle and turned away.

"Oh, Kara. I'm so sorry." Laura put a hand on her shoulder, very softly. When the child didn't flinch or pull away, she left it there and began stroking her back, offering wordless consolation and comfort.

Kara cried without making a single solitary sound. Laura couldn't see it or hear it, but she felt the tiny, telltale movements.

"Kara...Kara….give me your eyes."

"I'm not supposed to cry," apologized Kara in a voice like broken glass. She would not face Laura.

"Kara, look at me." Laura could feel her own eyes filling up. When Kara didn't turn around, Laura explained, "I'm crying, too. Maybe we can get through the crying together."

At last, Kara Thrace turned around to face her teacher. With an anguished cry, she launched herself into Laura Roslin's arms and sobbed.

* * *

Sitting on a swing in the dusky afternoon light, Laura watched the children taking turns spinning one another on the merry-go-round. The smell of autumn lingered in the earthy scent of the leaves under their feet. She and the man next to her swung lazily, watching the kids get bored with the merry-go-round and race toward the slide.

"She's such a different child," John Quinn commented.

"Mmmmm, she is. It's been so hard this past year and a half. So much upheaval. Her mother's trial. And then the heart attack. I never thought I'd say this about another human being but her mother's passing was, in some ways, a blessing in disguise. That's terrible, isn't it?"

John shook his head. "Terrible? I'd say it's spot on, Laura. How far into the proceedings were you again?"

"Not far at all; we only had the grand jury hearing where they determine that there's enough evidence to go to trial. They did, of course. But she had the heart attack a couple of weeks later."

"At least Kara didn't have to relive the abuse over and over again."

Laura made a random pattern in the dirt with the toe of her shoe. "They finally finalized the adoption last week. She's mine."

"Congratulations!"

"Thanks. It's a good feeling." Laura gazed at Kara when she spoke. "I couldn't be happier."

"She's a great kid. Bright. Terrific sense of humor. And too clever for her own good. I can't wait for her to be old enough to have in my class."

Laura smiled and looked at her watch. "I've got to get home and start dinner. Tell Miranda I said hello."

John smiled back at his friend and colleague. "Will do."

"Kara!," Laura called as she walked over to her daughter. "It's getting late, baby. We have to go."

Kara bounded over to her mother. "Five more minutes," she begged. "Please, Mama."

_Mama_. It was the first time she had called her that and Laura loved the way it sounded.

Eyes glistening, she could only nod and smile. "Yes. Five more minutes."

* * *

"Mom….Mom! You can let go now," laughed Kara.

"I don't want to," Laura protested stubbornly, but she released Kara from the hug. "I can't believe you're going to learn to fly one of those things," Laura added, as she looked dubiously at the Raptor off in the distance.

"Not yet…this is just basic. But eventually….hell, yes!" Her smile was so exuberant that Laura had to smile, too. Slipping her arm around her mother's waist, she gave her one more half-squeeze.

"I'll call you as soon as they allow it."

"You'd better."

"I love you," Laura said.

Kara glowed. "I love you, too, Mom."

* * *

Laura took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. The tag in the back of her blouse was driving her absolutely crazy and she completely regretted forgetting to cut it out that morning. She indulged in a thorough scratch since no one was around to witness it. With a sigh, she went back to perusing the fiscal report on the spring budget and made another notation in the margin. Laura's phone rang and she picked it up.

"Laura Roslin."

"Sorry to bother you, Madame Secretary. But it's your daughter on line two."

"Oh - thank you, Billy. Please - put her through."

"Helloooo, Madame Secretary," sang Kara.

"Helloooo, Lieutenant Thrace," echoed Laura. They both giggled simultaneously.

"Please tell me that you don't have dinner plans tonight," begged Kara.

Laura tapped her pencil on her desk absently. "Nothing I can't weasel my way out of," she answered. "I'm a politician, remember?"

"Nice, Mom. Speaking of weasels, is that frakker still chasing you around the desk?," asked Kara.

"Oh, not sense he found out what the heel of my stiletto felt like slamming onto top of his foot. I told him that the next time he put his hand on my ass, his foot wouldn't be the only part of his body that I squashed. He's been keeping his hands to himself ever since."

"Ouch! I'm proud of you…and he so deserved it."

"Yes, he did. I know it was political suicide for me but I don't care anymore. I won't play games."

"And that's why the political arena needs you, Mom."

Laura sighed and slipped her shoes off underneath her desk, stretching her legs. "Maybe. So…you want to grab a couple of movies, wine, and popcorn and do our usual thing?" Movie night had become a frequent Friday night tradition when Kara was on shore leave. Laura was often exhausted from the long hours that she was putting in and Kara loved having a chance for some true downtime.

"Not exactly. Mom, are you sitting down?" Kara's voice was breathless with excitement.

"Yes, I'm sitting."

"I'm engaged!"

"You and Lee," Laura smiled.

"Me and Lee," confirmed Kara - lthough there was never any question.

"Congratulations! "

"Wait a minute. That was way too easy. Where's the lecture?"

"Kara, you're twenty-three years old. Lee is a great guy. He's a terrific lawyer from what I hear with a lot of integrity and he has a strong head on his shoulders. But most of all, it's obvious that he's completely crazy about you."

"Lee wants you to meet his dad and I want his dad to meet you. We're taking you to dinner."

"The famous Admiral Adama that you wax poetic about. Not sure if I'll be able to reconcile the man with the myth," teased Laura.

"You're going to love the Old Man," Kara assured her. "So you'll come?"

"Of course. Name the time and the place."

"Altura. 7:00." Altura was a quaint, upscale restaurant in the city.

"7:00! I've got to run, honey, if I'm going to look even hallway presentable for seven. I'll see you then. Oh - and Kara - I want to hear all about the proposal. I expect details."

"You got it, Mom."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Laura was logging off her computer and slipping her feet back into her shoes when her intercom buzzed.

"Yes?" Laura said as she bent under her desk to retrieve her right shoe, which had somehow slid quite a bit out of reach of her foot. She sounded irritated and short. She _was_ irritated but not at Billy. Clenching her teeth, she knelt down under the mahogany desk and inched her fingertips over to the fugitive shoe.

Billy sounded flustered and uncertain. "The President would like you to stop by his office before you go." Billy paused. "I think, Madame Secretary, that he meant immediately."

_Of course he did. _

Laura made an extra effort to sound pleasant. She liked Billy; he was everything that she had been once, before politics had gotten her into its murky clutches. No matter how noble your intentions were, there were games in the political arena that you just had to play. Laura had learned the hard way that there were certain compromises that were inescapable and that every promise had a price. Maybe it would be different for Billy. Laura hoped so.

"Thank you, Billy. I'll see to it."

Grabbing her purse, Laura stepped out of her office, her heels making a rhythmic tapping on the marble floor. She stopped at Billy's desk before proceeding to Richard's office and glanced at her watch.

"It's after five; it's Friday. Anything on that desk can wait until Monday," she told Billy. Her voice was soft – maternal. There was an empty water bottle on his desk. Laura picked it up and threw it away. It wasn't meant as a reproach; it was a nurturing gesture, the kind of thing that a mother would do entering the room of her son – straightening the clothes in his closet or smoothing the linen on his bed. But Billy hadn't yet figured out how to read the enigmatic Laura Roslin and his face fell. Clearly, his boss thought that he was a slob.

"Any plans for the weekend?" Laura asked cheerfully.

"Going to a hockey game tomorrow…with a few friends." After a long pause, Billy asked tentatively, "You?"

"Kara's in town. We have dinner plans tonight. She and Lee are getting married."

Billy beamed. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you. I'm happy for her. Lee's a brilliant lawyer and a good person and it's obvious that he loves her very much." Laura looked faraway for a moment, thoughtful. "I'm sorry, Billy, I'd better not keep the President waiting. But please don't wait for me. I mean it. You're only young once. Start your weekend immediately. That's an order." Her smile was sincere, contagious. Billy found himself reciprocating the gesture.

"All right. Goodnight, Madame Secretary."

"Goodnight, Billy. Thank you for all of your help today."

* * *

The President's assistant barely gave Laura a glance as she approached his desk. He had that undefinable quality that every leader looks for in an assistant, namely the ability to make himself completely inconspicuous. There was an unspoken understanding between them. This was not the first time that the President of the Twelve Colonies had invited the Secretary of Education into his office – alone and at an unusual hour. David Brenner, the President's long time Chief of Staff, gave the illusion that it was not even remotely out of the ordinary while they both knew that it was.

"He's expecting you; you can go right in."

Laura nodded. "Thank you, David." Laura gave the door a polite knock even though Mr. Brenner deemed it unnecessary. In the name of professionalism and propriety, she believed that it _was_ necessary.

The President was signing a handful of memorandums that he hadn't had time to attend to earlier. He read every word of anything that passed in front of his desk, no matter how inconsequential. He didn't like summaries and debriefings, although they were necessary for some things. Richard Adar liked to be in control and the first prerequisite to power was being in the know. He was a man who liked being informed. _The devil is in the details._ Adar liked his little idioms almost as much as he liked the expensive Cassari wrist watch he wore or his 120 thread count suits.

"Come on in," Richard said in answer to her knock, without looking up from his paperwork. He did, however, look up as Laura walked toward his desk.

Richard had a way of observing Laura that made her want to turn 180 degrees in front of a three way mirror to make sure that nothing was out of place. He didn't gaze. He didn't look. He scrutinized. It wasn't an inappropriate kind of looking; Laura would have put him in his place if it were, president or not. Richard had an intensity about him that pervaded everything that he did. It was just one part of the charismatic nature of his personality that had convinced her to continue working with him, long after their original meeting when she worked on his mayoral campaign twelve years ago.

Besides Richard's taste in fine watches and costly suits, he prided himself on being surrounded by the best. He considered Laura Roslin, with her smooth voice and enticingly green eyes, to be the very best of the best. He could still perfectly recall the first time that he'd ever seen her, one of several piano soloists playing classical pieces at a restored Caprican mansion on the east side. She was never more beautiful, he reflected, than when she sat down in front of the piano, hands gliding across the keys as she played shimmering scales and perfectly executed trills with an effortless grace that made even the most complicated music seem simple to execute. Besides being beautiful, she was smart, an articulate speaker who could sway people to her way of thinking, a quality that had been underdeveloped when he had met her but that had become even more pronounced with time and experience.

Their affair had been much too brief, Richard thought now as he watched Laura moving toward him in her impeccably tailored navy blue suit. He had finally gotten her into bed after tragedy had struck her family, when her father and two younger sisters had been hit and killed by a drunk driver while Richard was serving his term as mayor. Understandably, she had been completely devastated by the loss. Before that, he had been pursuing her for years. But she had mistaken his avid interest as a keen professional regard. For all of her intelligence, there was an innocence about her that mingled with her sophistication, and even after all of these years in politics – she was still an idealist at heart. It was part of what made her so irresistible to him. Laura had spoken to him on more than one occasion about how she felt that politics had jaded her, but what she didn't realize was that it really hadn't. She was more savvy, certainly, than she had been twelve years ago, but she was still highly principled. She was principled enough that she had abruptly ended their short-lived but very passionate affair because of Richard's marriage to Lillian. He knew that if she hadn't been so broken up about the loss of her sisters and her father that the affair would likely have never taken place. He realized that he had probably taken advantage of her vulnerability. But Richard was too pragmatic to feel guilty about it. Maybe he had gotten the elusive Laura Roslin by default - but the end result was the same. He had enjoyed every stolen moment that they had spent together.

He wanted her back.

Richard rose as Laura walked toward him. "Forgive me for calling you in so late," he apologized, although he really wasn't sorry. He watched her fidget for a moment with her watch. Richard wondered if she had a date and he felt a potent stab of jealousy.

"Am I keeping you from something, Laura?" he asked kindly; he was the picture of concern.

"Kara's in town. We have dinner plans."

Richard smiled, not because Laura was getting to spend time with Kara, but because she _didn't_ have a date. "Then I'll keep this brief. I know how little time you get to spend with Kara and how precious those moments are."

"Thank you."

"I just wanted to let you know that I let Phil Hawkinson go."

The comment startled Laura, which was exactly what Richard had wanted. He could see the unmasked surprise in her eyes.

"I wish that you would have come to me, Laura, when he was bothering you. I won't tolerate my staff behaving inappropriately." He stepped closer to her, just a fraction of an inch, careful to keep a respectful distance but the motion was enough to let her know that this was something that he felt strongly about. Richard Adar didn't make any move without careful calculation, especially when he wanted something. And what he wanted was standing only a few feet away.

"I took care of it," Laura insisted with a stubborn shake of her head.

Richard gave her an amused smile. "Rumor has it he was limping for a good twenty-four hours. Laura, I know how capable you are." He sighed as he knitted his features into an expression of singular distress. "You are very important to me and I just wanted to let you know that I would have taken any complaints that you made very seriously."

"I don't need you to protect me, Mr. President," Laura informed him coolly. "Given our history, there are already enough rumors that you've shown partiality toward –"

"I _am_ partial to you, Laura. I can't help it." He said it almost as if he were reluctant to admit it, although he was certainly not shy about his feelings for her. He only wanted to make her _think_ that he was. "But you deserve every accolade that you've received – on your own merits. I understand why you ended things and I would never ask you to compromise your integrity; your principles are admirable. Look," he added more softly, "I don't want to make you late for Kara and I know how these after-hours meetings make you nervous. I just needed you to know that – " Richard looked at her with understated longing. "I have your best interests at heart. Shall I walk you out?"

Richard watched her closely. There was a rapid flutter of indecision that flickered across her eyes. Her expression told him exactly what he had wanted to know. She wasn't immune to him, after all. Even after all of this time, she still felt conflicted where he was concerned. He suppressed his satisfied smile. Maybe he'd left his scruples at the door a long time ago but he did care, genuinely, about Laura. Of course, he cared more about himself and always would - but that was beside the point. He wasn't above manipulating her to get her back; in his limited moral compass, it seemed like such a minor indiscretion. With his significant ego in tow, he was certain that he could make her happy. It wasn't as if he didn't care about her. If he played on her sensibilities a little bit here and there, was that so terrible?

"Thank you; I'll just see myself out," said Laura politely. "Enjoy your weekend, Mr. President."

It was only when her back was to him and she couldn't see his face that he allowed his gaze to linger.

* * *

Kara and Lee were seated across from Bill Adama at a table for four in a cozy little alcove all by themselves in what was otherwise a very crowded restaurant. Kara had been teasing Lee mercilessly all night that the only reason that they had gotten such a prime seating arrangement was because the hostess was so taken with Lee's "big baby blues." Gauzy lavender curtains adorned the entryway and there was even a fireplace with a warm fire crackling from across the table.

"It was high time I retire," Bill Adama admitted, nodding as Kara motioned toward his glass with the stem of the wine bottle to see whether or not he wanted a refill. He gave a gentle wave when she had filled the glass half way.

"You'll stay in Caprica?" inquired Kara.

"Yes. I'll be teaching a couple of flight mechanics classes at the academy. Not active duty, of course, but enough to keep me out of trouble. Mostly." There was mischief in his voice. "The decommission ceremony for my retirement will be on Galactica next week. You should come."

"I'd like that, sir," smiled Kara.

"Under the circumstances," Bill mused with a little gleam in his azure eyes, "I think that you can drop the 'sir.' I kind of think that 'Dad' has a nice ring to it, although be forewarned that you'll be subject to my fatherly advice."

Lee gave a pointed cough. "I'd stick to the sir if I were you and forgo the paternal meddling," Lee teased his fiancée.

"I never meddle, Kara. Why meddle when coercion is so much more effective?" he asked with a gruff grin as he tipped his wine glass back and took a long sip.

"Good luck with that, Dad," Lee told his father. "As you already know, Kara isn't easily coerced into anything."

"Damn straight," affirmed Kara. "A quality I get from my mother….who is never late," she added peering closely at her watch in the candlelight. Lee sensed her worry and brushed his hand reassuringly over hers.

"Traffic's terrible over here on a Friday," Lee reminded her. "And we did kind of spring this on her. I'm sure she'll be here soon. Never mind….here she comes." Lee suddenly spotted Laura as one of the waiters who had been obstructing his view moved aside.

"Oh, my goodness," I'm so sorry I'm late," apologized Laura Roslin as she approached the table in a flurry of cascading red hair in her elegant fuchsia dress. "The traffic was atrocious." Kara stood up and hugged her mother, whispering a heartfelt, "You look fabulous," in her ear. Laura whispered a quick and quiet, "So do you" as the women separated from their quick hug.

"Good to see you, Laura," Lee said warmly. He embraced her and kissed her cheek.

Bill Adama had stood up as soon as he had realized that Laura had arrived. His first, cursory impression of the woman was that she didn't have the shiny veneer that he had expected to find, given her status as a politician. She had an approachable, down-to-earth quality that was immediately appealing.

Kara tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and smiled exuberantly. "Mom, this is Admiral William Adama—Lee's dad. And this is my mother, Laura Roslin."

"Madame Secretary," Bill said formally as he extended his hand.

"Admiral," Laura smiled. She had a strong handshake, Bill reflected. Solid. Sincere. As soon as their fingers touched, the room seemed to come to a complete standstill. The mundane sounds of the room, snippets of conversation and the clang of silverware against plates, faded away. Laura and Bill ceased breathing for a heartbeat of a second. Two deep blue eyes met another pair of eyes —green-grey, vividly green, like the sea after a storm.

Bill released the breath that he had been holding. "We've met before," he said uncertainly.

"Have we?" Laura countered, just as tentatively. Bill and Kara exchanged an amused glance as they watched their parents' awkward exchange. "Please—just Laura," Laura added.

Bill nodded, his hand still clasping hers. It took him another moment to find his voice. "Bill."

Bill suddenly realized that he hadn't let go of the woman's hand and felt like a colossal idiot. _Great first impression, Bill._ What in the world had just come over him? Of course he had never seen her before. What an utterly stupid thing to say! He relinquished his grip on her hand and tried to recover a bit of his gentlemanly dignity as he waited politely for her to sit down. Kara had to cue her mother with an inconspicuous little tug on her dress. Without missing a beat, Laura sat down gracefully with a tiny hum. Once the ladies were both seated, Bill and Lee followed suit.

"What can I get you to drink, Laura?" offered Bill.

"A glass of Chardonnay. But you don't have to get up; we can wait until the waiter comes back."

"It's no trouble," replied Bill as he rose from the table and made his way over to the bar.

"I'm so glad you could make it tonight – and on such short notice," smiled Lee after his father had gotten up.

Laura smiled. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world," she assured her future son-in-law.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Offering to get a glass of wine for Laura served two purposes. It was a considerate and welcoming gesture and it gave Bill a moment to clear his head. The memory of the warmth and feel of Laura's elegantly tapered hand in his callused one lingered tantalizingly. What he felt was an alien feeling that he could not readily rationalize. This wasn't simply an ordinary physical attraction; he'd felt that plenty of times before. This was something different – captivating, but also almost too much, like the scent of an exotic but overwhelmingly sweet incense freshly burning. Underneath the irrevocable pull that he felt toward her, there was something else, a painful ache that was an inexplicable mixture of sorrow and regret. None of it made any sense to Bill and he decided that his feelings were merely a peculiar manifestation of what his longtime friend and colleague Saul Tigh frequently accused him of: he spent too much time alone these days and needed to, as Tigh bluntly put it, "get laid." Tigh's crude analysis wasn't even the half of it. Bill hadn't had any serious relationships since his divorce. He glanced down furtively at the wedding band that he still wore and closed his eyes for a moment as he paid for Laura's glass of wine. The thought of allowing a woman to get close to him again was completely unnerving. Sex was the easy part. Not that he should be thinking about any of this in relation to Lee's future mother-in-law. Whatever strange spell had come over him, Bill decided that he'd better snap the hell out of it – and fast.

"Here you go, Laura," Bill said as he placed the glass of Chardonnay in front of her.

"Thank you," answered Laura, looking up at him for a fleeting moment. Bill's seat was next to hers and when he sat down, his shoulder brushed against Laura's arm as he pushed his chair back in.

"I'm sorry I – lost my train of thought," Laura apologized to Kara and Lee but she was looking at Bill.

"The apartment," prompted Lee.

"Oh, yes. A new building is opening up – about a mile from my place, in fact. High ceilings. Great lighting. View of the park."

"Mom, I _like_ my apartment," said Kara firmly but not unkindly.

Laura sighed unhappily. "I know." Kara rented a loft on the west side, an artsy section of Caprica famous for its myriad of painters and musicians, struggling actors, would-be dancers, and enthusiastic journalists hoping to break into the business. Kara simply liked the energy and ever-throbbing pulse that beat constantly in this little Bohemian corner of the city. Unfortunately, the crime rate was high and Laura worried. "No pressure," Laura added softly.

Kara studied her mother's concerned face and leaned over to her, lightly pressing her forehead against Laura's, a shared gesture that had been singularly theirs since Kara was a little girl. "I'll look at it," she relented.

Laura smiled. "Thank you."

Kara grinned. "I won't remind you that you had a little studio over in my same area when you were – what –21? 22?"

"I was 23," Laura amended. She took a sip of her wine. "And the neighborhood was different then."

Kara tilted her head toward Bill and Lee and lowered her voice as if she were confiding something very secret, "Her lock was broken and every so often – "

"Kara," interrupted Laura, "I'm sure the admiral doesn't want to hear about this."

"Oh, on the contrary," Bill planted his hand against his chin, "the admiral _does_."

Laura looked from Kara to Bill. "Don't encourage her," she snapped lightly.

"Every so often," Kara continued, "the neighbor below her would get completely smashed and fall asleep on her couch _in his underwear_."

"He was harmless," Laura clarified. "It was sad, really. He'd get so drunk he'd forget which apartment was his and just crash on my sofa."

Lee was grinning. "But it was her upstairs neighbors that were the real problem," he explained.

"How many people have you told this story to?" Laura asked her daughter with an exasperated sigh.

"It's funny!" giggled Kara.

"The couple above me was in their mid-forties. He worked on films – painting movie sets, props, other studio related art projects. She worked at a hotel front desk. They were ideal neighbors because they never complained about my piano practicing. But, unfortunately, they were very…." Laura searched for a polite way to say it. "…amorous."

"They frakked constantly," explained Kara with a wide smile.

"Laura's light fixtures would vibrate," Lee chimed in.

"And they made cracks in the ceiling!" exclaimed Kara.

Laura laughed. "It was pretty awful. There was a coffee shop across the way that was open all night; I can't tell you how many times I'd slip out of the apartment just to get away from the constant….thumping."

Bill smiled and Laura immediately liked the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners. It softened his features and she smiled back. The conversation flowed easily and eventually came back to Lee and Kara's future plans. Laura got the distinct impression that Bill wanted the couple to wait until Lee finished law school before getting married. His laughing blue eyes were completely forgotten as he launched into a thinly veiled narrative on the benefits of taking things slowly. Laura firmly believed in allowing Kara and Lee to forge their own path and Bill's unsolicited advice, no matter how well-intentioned, irritated her.

"I'm sure that you and Lee will set a date that's right for you," Laura interrupted Bill finally, directly addressing her daughter.

"I'm sure they will, too," Bill responded, his gaze intent on Laura. "Kara still has another couple of years of service and Lee's finishing up law school. My point was simply that they don't have to rush. But, of course, they can decide for themselves." Bill leaned back slightly in his chair. He had married Carolanne – too young, too soon. Neither of them had known what they had wanted, not really. He wanted something different for Lee and for Kara. It wasn't that he didn't like Kara – on the contrary, he had grown to love her, almost like a daughter. But he wanted them both to be sure and to be ready. He sure as hell hadn't been.

"That's very magnanimous of you, Bill," Laura said, "to grant them permission to decide for themselves." Her tone was neutral. Her message wasn't.

There was a sudden awkward lull in the conversation. Laura observed Lee giving his father a quick, pleading look from across the table. Bill returned the gesture with a silent and begrudging huff. Laura wondered if Bill was a typical military parent; she had observed the type before with her students: controlling and opinionated. Even when well-meaning, they often had a tendency to push their kids away with their rigid approach to parenting.

Laura's speculation was interrupted by an enthusiastic male voice exclaiming, "Bill!"

A man with graying silver-blonde hair stood by their table, smiling broadly. His smile widened when he saw Lee. "And Lee! It's been years. How are you?"

Paul Hutchins had been Lee and Zak's swim coach back in high school and was an old family friend. Bill and Lee both stood up to greet him. "I'm doing fine, Paul," Bill answered in his husky baritone. "This is Kara Thrace, Lee's fiancée, and this is Laura Roslin, her mother. We were just celebrating their engagement."

Paul greeted the two women with a friendly smile. "Congratulations!" he exclaimed. "How's Zak doing?" he asked, inquiring after Bill's younger son. There was a slight pause before Bill answered.

"Zak was killed in a racing accident three years ago," Bill said quietly.

"Oh my goodness." Paul's expression shifted from bright and beaming to stricken in a matter of seconds. "I'm so, so sorry."

Bill coughed. "Thank you. How's Sylvia?" he asked.

"She's fine. She's in the ladies room. It's our twenty-fifth anniversary. I'm sure she'll want to stop over and say hello."

"We'd like that," said Lee.

"Well, I don't want to interrupt your dinner," Paul said with forced cheerfulness. "Nice meeting you Kara…and Laura." With a smile and a wave, he went to go find his wife.

After Paul was out of sight, Bill downed the remainder of his gin and tonic in a few short gulps. The glass was ¾ full. "Another drink, anyone?" Bill asked as he stood up in one abrupt motion.

Laura's wine glass was empty but she shook her head curtly. "No, thank you." Kara and Lee also declined. Bill shrugged and disappeared in the crowd as he headed to the bar.

"It's still really difficult for him," Lee sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Of course it is," Laura nodded. Her eyes were warm and sympathetic as she looked at Lee. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Bill returned shortly after with a gin and tonic for himself and a glass of Chardonnay for Laura. He placed it in front of her. Laura narrowed her eyes and was about to icily inform Bill that she had not asked for another glass of wine when Kara gave her mother a gentle nudge under the table. Laura glared at her daughter and proceeded to fume silently at Bill. An absurd thought crossed Bill's mind as he felt the chill in Laura's gaze. Even angry, she was an exceptionally beautiful woman. He wanted to start the evening over again but he didn't know how to extricate himself from the shaky ground that they now stood on so precariously.

Lee filled the troublesome silence by engaging Laura in a lively conversation about some three-hundred year old classical piano manuscripts that were recently discovered in a museum archive in Piscera. Lee had a way about him, Bill reflected, always the diplomat – an innate ability that allowed him to smoothly soothe ruffled feathers. Lee certainly hadn't gotten that quality from him, or from Carolanne for that matter. Unlike Lee, Kara was much more apt to be direct and blunt than diplomatic. This marked difference in approach would either prove an asset to the couple or a disaster. Sometimes Bill felt that he understood Kara far more than he did his own loftily idealistic son. You never had to guess what Kara was feeling; it was always right there bubbling or seething at the surface.

The temporary ease in the tension at the table was short lived when the clasp on Laura's necklace suddenly came undone and the simple gold chain slid off of her neck. She almost caught it - but not quite in time, and it landed on the floor between her chair and Bill's. Bill bent down to retrieve the necklace. When he bobbed back up to place it in her hand, he accidentally bumped the full glass of white wine and watched in horror as the Secretary of Education ended up with a lapful of Chardonnay.

"I'm so sorry," apologized Bill as he offered her his linen napkin with an expression of sincere supplication.

"It's fine," Laura replied. She stood up. "I'm going to just…" Laura made a generalized gesture with her hands to indicate that she was going to exit the table. "….ladies room. Excuse me."

"I'll go with you," said Kara as she began to pull out her chair.

"No, no." Laura shook her head emphatically. Her tone was brusque; her resolve was final. "I'll just be a few moments. Really, it's nothing."

Laura walked gracefully into the ladies room as if she were not covered in wine. After a great deal of blotting, she was able to get her dress from a state of saturation to dampness but she could do nothing about the discoloration from the stain. There was a cream colored cashmere shawl in her car that she could wear to hide the sins of the wine, although she'd still spend the rest of the evening smelling like a brewery. Maybe she was being too hard on Bill. Just because he'd had a couple of extra drinks after being forced to remember his deceased son didn't necessarily make him an alcoholic. And his caution about Kara and Lee rushing into marriage could simply be the genuine concern of a loving parent and not an attack on her daughter or a sign that he was controlling. Her encouraging Kara to move into an apartment building closer to her could just as easily be misconstrued. The evening was about Kara and Lee, not about whether or not she liked the admiral. What was it about him that caused her to keep thinking about him anyway? As she proceeded out to the parking lot to her car, Laura decided that she would try to salvage this largely dreadful evening.

When Laura had been gone for a little over ten minutes, Kara announced that she was going to go check on her. At that moment, their waiter told Kara that her mother had asked him to let her know that she was running out to her car for her shawl and would be right back.

"I'm still going to see how she's doing," said Kara. Their dinner had just arrived.

"You sit down and enjoy this great meal with Lee," insisted Bill, standing up. "I'll check on your mother. Bill watched Kara and Lee exchange an uneasy glance. "You two could give me a better vote of confidence," he added wryly with a dash of his usual humor. "Look at it this way. I can't make it any worse, can I?" Lee opened his mouth to say something but Bill quickly interrupted him. "Don't answer that."

Outside, Bill discovered that it must have been raining. The black asphalt was slick, although the sky was now clear and full of stars. It must have been a passing shower. He scanned the parking lot for Laura, walking down several aisles. A few minutes later, her distinctive voice carried in his direction. If she had seemed cool toward him earlier, this was a whole new dimension of Laura Roslin's ire.

"You are in absolutely no condition to drive, sir," Laura was saying in a clipped, authoritative tone.

"Listen, lady," a male voice slurred, "get out of my way and mind your frakking business. I'm fine." Bill double timed it to the location that their voices were coming from. Laura was standing next to an unfamiliar black vehicle, holding onto the door while a man –who was twice her size and quite obviously drunk – was attempting to get behind the wheel.

"If you're not sensible enough to consider your own safety," she continued curtly, "then think about the lives of the people that you are endangering with your recklessness." She softened her tone but the animosity lingered. "I'll call you a cab." Bill decided right then and there that Kara's mother was insane. Trying to rationalize an argument with an intoxicated person in such a pragmatic manner was not the action of a sane person. Bill didn't have much time to consider further as he watched the man forcibly push Laura away, slide into his vehicle, shut the door, and rev up the engine. Adrenaline coursed through Bill's body as he watched the disoriented driver swerve as he made the pull out of his parking space.

He was headed straight for Laura.

Bill rushed toward her and knocked her out of the path of the car, the two of them landing on the damp ground as the man skidded off into the night.

"Did you hit your head?" Bill asked desperately, easing his weight off of her body. She was shaking.

"Did you get his license plate?" asked Laura urgently, completely ignoring his question.

"Did I get his…no, I didn't." Bill peered at her with an incredulous expression. "Are you all right?" he asked again, more gruffly this time.

"I'm fine," she snapped. Bill helped Laura up and saw her wince as she stood.

"You don't look fine," he exploded. "What the frak were you thinking? He could have killed you." Bill's dark blue eyes were wide with frustration and concern as he helped her stand. She began limping stubbornly toward the restaurant.

"Lean on me," Bill demanded, easily catching up with her and slipping an arm around her waist. Laura complied but Bill suspected that it was only out of necessity. She was the most infuriating, exasperating, and completely incomprehensible woman that he had ever met.

They entered the restaurant lobby and Bill pointed to a chair. "Sit," he ordered. Laura opened her mouth to protest but Bill stopped her.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Madame Secretary. If you don't tell me right now what hurts, I will simply call the rescue and let the paramedics deal with you."

"I twisted my ankle," Laura said with pointedly false sweetness. Bill grabbed another chair and slid it in front of Laura. "Your right one?" He could already see the swelling.

"Yes, but it's already feeling better." Bill touched her ankle very gingerly. "Does that hurt?" he asked with a disarming softness that utterly surprised her.

"No."

"It's probably just a sprain," Bill told her as he lifted her ankle and gently placed her foot on the other chair. His hands were warm. "We'll get some ice on it and you'll keep it elevated for a bit and then we'll see how you do. Are you amenable to that?"

"Yes," sighed Laura impatiently. "Do I have a choice?"

Bill smiled at her. "Not really. I'm going to get you some ice. Stay put." He was about to step away to retrieve the ice but he stopped for a moment. "I really am very sorry about ruining your dress," he apologized.

"Well," said Laura, "considering the fact that you might have just saved my life, I suppose I can overlook it." A fragile wisp of a smile played about the corners of her mouth.

"I'll be right back."

Bill hoped that the momentary truce would last – at least long enough for him to figure out what to make of Laura Roslin.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Kara was helping her mother put breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. It was the morning after their dinner with Lee and the admiral. Laura's ankle was better. Bill had made sure that she kept it elevated and iced during dinner. The little alcove that their table was situated in gave them privacy and plenty of room to maneuver. The mood of the remainder of the evening had oddly improved after Laura's near-accident. Nothing like a brush with death to give everyone perspective. Laura laughed with morbid humor as she dried off the inside of a bowl that had turned over inside the dishwasher and was still wet, before placing it in the cupboard.

"What are you giggling about?" Kara asked, teasingly nudging her mother with her elbow.

"I was just thinking about how crazy Bill must think I am for trying to detain that drunk last night. He doesn't know about your grandfather and your aunts, does he?"

"I don't think so," said Kara. "Lee knows but I never mentioned it to the Old Man."

"You know," Laura smiled ruefully, "I hope that you never ever refer to me as 'the Old Woman.'"

"It's a term of endearment," Kara assured her.

"Mmmmm," Laura hummed in a tone of disapproval. "Nevertheless."

Kara was putting the orange juice back in the refrigerator when she noticed an appointment card attached to the freezer with a magnet for Laura's oncologist. Kara stopped in her tracks.

"Are you all right?" she asked her mother.

"What?" Laura turned her head around.

Kara motioned with her head toward the little card.

Laura turned back to the dishwasher. "Oh, that. Everything's fine, honey."

"Mom, look at me."

After the deaths of her father and her sisters, Laura had fallen into a deep depression. She had lost weight rapidly and she kept missing important appointments, like her mammogram. It was only because of Kara's repeated reminders that she had finally gone for the screening. They had caught the cancer just before it had metastasized but Laura had had to undergo several courses of painful treatments and drug therapy before she was in the clear. Kara had probably saved her life, one of the many ways in which her daughter had been such a gift.

Laura turned to face Kara. "It's an annual follow-up – "

Kara forcefully pulled her mother into a tight embrace. "Oh, Kara…."

"Swear it." Kara prompted her, against her hair.

"I promise," said Laura. She squeezed her daughter.

Kara released her. "You need to tell me these things." Her voice was thick with emotion.

"Kara, I told you. If I get any kind of significant health news, I will tell you." Laura had not been forthcoming when she had been diagnosed with cancer. Kara was away at school and she hadn't wanted to burden her. When she had found out that her mother had been keeping her illness a secret, Kara had been livid. She had come home on an unanticipated leave to surprise her mother, only to find her pale, thin, and bald from the radiation treatments. It had been a terrible shock and Kara could not readily forget it.

"You can't ever do that to me again," added Kara fiercely.

"I won't. I promise. This appointment is a good thing. I'm still cancer free. Dr. Corel is so pleased, in fact, with my recovery, that he wants to use my case in a study – which is why I have the appointment."

Kara frowned. "All right. I just worry."

"I'm fine." Laura exhaled. She grabbed a sponge and began wiping down the counter.

Kara watched her mother continue her cleaning. When she spoke again, it was with a lighter tone. "You'd better be. Admiral Adama is going to be living in Caprica after he retires. I'll send him on reconnaissance missions to give me regular reports on your welfare."

Laura rolled her eyes. "Aren't I supposed to be the parent here? Shouldn't I be checking up on you?" She began scrubbing the kitchen counter feverishly at the mention of Bill.

Kara eyed her mother's sudden vigorous attention to the cleanliness of the countertop with an amused look. "You know, they do say opposites attract…"

"I am absolutely _not_ attracted to the admiral," Laura assured her daughter as her forceful push on the sponge caused it to pop upward and hit her in the forehead. "He's not my type. Besides, divorced people that wear their wedding rings are clearly not over their previous wives," Laura stated matter-of-factly. She'd already engaged in one messy affair with a married man. She certainly didn't need a divorced one that still had unresolved feelings for his ex-wife.

Kara retrieved the sponge from the sink where it had finally landed. Very slowly, she handed it to her mother, slow enough that she could meet her eyes in the process. "You noticed his wedding ring."

Laura testily grabbed the sponge from Kara and resumed her cleaning, turning away abruptly. "I wasn't looking for it, if that's what you're implying. It was rather hard to miss with his hand clenching a wine glass half the night." Her tone was more accusatory than she had intended.

"For the record," stated Kara as she leaned against the counter, "the admiral can't stand his ex-wife and vice versa. I think the ring is more a gesture of him honoring his family. He's kind of traditional; I think that he would have stayed married just for the sake of Lee and Zak."

"Not exactly a healthy attitude," Laura commented.

Kara shrugged. "I'm just speculating." She smiled widely at her mother. "You could ask him yourself."

Laura playfully flicked her wet fingers at her daughter, sprinkling her with droplets of water. "I think I'll pass."

* * *

Richard Adar sipped his tall latte, which had been made with the most expensive coffee in Caprica, topped with frothy foam and dusted with cinnamon. The caffeine had done little to ease his boredom or his preoccupation with Laura. He had been trying to devise a plan all morning to get her alone again, only this time for a longer duration, while Brenner droned on and on about his upcoming schedule. Leaning back in his chair and drumming his fingers against the edge of his mahogany desk, Adar only half-listened.

…"and then on Thursday there's the decommissioning ceremony for _Galactica_. You can stay overnight on _Colonial One_ and still make your meeting with the Quorum in the morning. You remember Admiral Adama? Laura Roslin's daughter is engaged to his son, Leland."

Adar suddenly snapped to attention.

"She never mentioned that to me," Adara murmured, speaking more to himself than to Brenner._  
_

"Mr. President?"

"I'm sure that a little sojourn on _Galactia_ would pique Ms. Roslin's interest, given her daughter's association with the ship. I'll stay aboard _Galactica_. Ask Madame Secretary to accompany me."

"The ship is going to be terribly crowded, Mr. President. You and Ms. Roslin would likely be far more comfortable aboard _Colonial One_."

Richard slid his fingers along the length of his tie, smoothing the already pristine fabric. "Indeed. It would be most inconvenient if Ms. Roslin and I had to share quarters." He looked meaningfully at his personal assistant. "I'm sure that you will be careful to make appropriate arrangements."

Brenner nodded his understanding. "As you wish, Mr. President."

* * *

_Laura was suspended above a vast field of water, dotted with strange pink flowers with feathered petals, expanding across a wide vista where the sun painted the surrounding landscape in colors of russet and gold. The pink flowers turned into flamingos as the land drew closer to embrace her. Her eyes were so heavy as she fought to keep them open. A voice of gravel and velvet murmured incomprehensible words but she was content merely to listen to the soothing inflection and cadence of the sound, even if the meaning eluded her.  
_

_"So much life," she heard herself murmur, the words heavy on her tongue. It was difficult to breathe and yet - she was unafraid._

Laura's alarm clock blared loudly and she woke up from the dream with a start. And as dreams often do, the images faded into static before she could capture even a single one into her memory.

Kara had been completely amused when Laura had called her to inform her that she was going to be attending the decommissioning ceremony for _Galactica_, accompanied by the president. Laura was neither amused nor enthusiastic. She was given almost no notice whatsoever and had to scramble around last minute trying to get everything that required her attention finished. She was grateful for Billy. He helped her meet her deadlines and even stayed later with her so that she could finish a hefty stack of correspondence before the morning. She had insisted on taking him with her for the journey, although Brenner had given her a hard time.

As Laura descended the ladder that led to the heart of _Galactica_, she was once again grateful for Billy's expertise. He had tactfully advised her to wear pant suits and now she understood why. He had also recommended practical shoes but there were just some things a lady couldn't relinquish. Attractive shoes were one of Laura's admitted vanities and she refused to traipse around in sensible shoes, no matter how practical.

Bill had expected the President but he had not been informed about Laura until that morning. Her long, wavy red hair was unmistakable and he couldn't help but notice the stilettos - only a few days after her incident with the drunk driver when she had probably sprained her ankle. This Laura was a slightly different creature than the one he'd met at Altura. Sleek in her elegant and expensively tailored suit, she possessed the aura of a practiced politician, gracious and smiling. The cameras loved her. She probably got more press than Adar did. One of the press asked him, Laura, Kara, and Lee to pose for a photo; Kara and Lee's engagement had apparently been made public. Bill found it a bit unnerving and couldn't help wondering if it served some political agenda. He'd never trusted politicians.

Adar seemed to be everywhere Laura was, Bill noted. He hovered. He touched her constantly, nothing inappropriate but the man seemed to always have a hand on her, fingertips brushing against her arm, the flat of his palm on the small of her back. Bill was acutely aware of it. Rumor had it that Richard Adar had a roaming eye and a weakness for beautiful women. He wondered if that included Laura Roslin and he felt a flare of an emotion that he would not dare to name course momentarily through his body.

Laura noticed Bill as soon as she descended onto _Galactica's_ massive decks. The ship was imposing and Bill didn't just command it, he seemed to be a part of it. He seemed so much more military now in his dress blues and Laura could well imagine how intimidating he could be if he so chose. She wondered what kind of a leader he was. Was he fair and just or unyielding and uncompromising? Kara had always spoken so highly of him, with respect, and even affection. Laura attempted to conjure a an image of Bill smiling as he had smiled the night of their dinner with Lee and Kara, but the image just wouldn't come. Bill glanced at Richard and his expression seemed almost - sour. Laura decided that he would make an indomitable ally or a formidable enemy.

She wasn't sure yet which he was to her.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

To Laura_, Galactica_ felt cold and dim with its seemingly endless monochrome corridors that stretched out in all directions. Everything looked the same. She wondered how anyone on the ship knew where they were going; it was like being in a hall of mirrors, without the magic. One section was merely a sterile and gleaming reflection of another. There was a constant hum from the engines, a bland white noise that never ceased its ghostlike hum. Despite the large crowd that had turned out for the decommissioning ceremony, Laura found the ship oddly lonely. The feeling was only magnified by Richard's presence. She had so meticulously avoided being near him in any personal capacity since their she had ended the relationship. Their affair was tangled into the emotional upheaval and grief that had surrounded her family's car accident and inextricably woven into the memories of her cancer. She had a bad habit of lapsing back into old patterns where Richard was concerned, especially in moments of vulnerability. It was not a behavior that she was particularly proud of – or eager to repeat.

The audience was still and attentive during Bill's speech. He had a commanding way about him that held his listeners' complete focus. Laura observed that there wasn't even a single pair of eyes in her vicinity that were wandering, except perhaps hers – for just a moment – as she watched Bill's effect on the rapt crowd. As a speaker, Bill was almost gruffly direct. He got right to the heart of the matter without prevarication or pretense. He also had that distinctive quality that a charismatic speaker has of making the listener feel that they are the one and only person that he is addressing. The Cylon war, Bill explained, was a permanent scar on the past of humanity that people wanted to brush under the rug and forget. Bill spoke about the importance of remembering – so that history does not repeat itself, so that we learn from our mistakes and strive to do better. "We must learn more about who we are, and more importantly, about whom we want to become as we press forward." Laura appreciated not only the truth and simplicity of the message – but also the mere fact that Bill was daring enough to address it. Just because there was peace between the Cylons and the humans didn't mean that it was an easy peace. It wasn't. Some wounds won't ever completely heal. His speech hit her on a personal level as well; she didn't want to slip into old habits with Richard. She would be fooling herself to pretend that the temptation wasn't still there. But maybe by admitting it she could finally rise above it.

To Richard's irritation, it was Billy and not to him that Laura turned to, after Bill had finished speaking, to comment on a couple of things that the admiral had said and to inquire on how Billy was finding _Galactica_. Although he knew that her interest was maternal, that of a colleague and mentor, he still didn't like it. He had, after all, orchestrated the whole affair of getting Laura there and he wanted her all to himself. It had been too long.

Brenner leaned over and whispered nonchalantly in his ear, "Mr. President, they'd like you to start the receiving line."

Richard nodded and glanced once more at the Secretary of Education who was now whispering something else to Billy while they both looked at the admiral. The president sighed, put on his most polished smile, and walked over to congratulate Bill Adama.

"Admiral Adama, congratulations on your retirement. And on behalf of my entire administration, I'd like to extend my sincere gratitude for your many years of exemplary service."

Bill nodded and smiled. "Thank you, sir."

Richard shook Bill's hand and the two men posed for a photo. Afterwards, the president was escorted to a secure location before the festivities began.

Laura was next in line. "Admiral Adama," she said softly, tilting her head slightly; Bill liked the way that he could not only see her smile but hear it in her voice. It wasn't affected either. It was sincere.

"Madame Secretary."

"I thought we were on a first name basis, Bill," Laura remarked lightly.

"We were…until we weren't," he grinned, and his answering smile came from someplace deep within his core, making his eyes crinkle up at the corners.

"Mmmmm," she agreed with a soft nod. "My fault?"

"It's all right, Laura, I forgive you." Bill realized he was inadvertently flirting with her. Maybe not so inadvertently. _Why_ was he flirting with her? But more importantly, he wondered, as she observed him with those spectacular green eyes of hers - was she flirting with _him? _

"Congratulations, Bill." Her voice jostled his thoughts.

And her hand was suddenly in his again. Oh, he liked it – too much. Many seconds passed as they stared at one another. Finally, the pair finally disengaged from their handshake but it was an awkward moment as their eyes lagged behind, continuing to latch onto one another even though their hands had separated. Laura wanted to tell Bill something important about his speech. Bill wanted to say something more interesting than a bland thank you for coming. But instead, they merely gazed mutely at one another with a mixture of bewilderment and barely suppressed amusement. Bill had never been so puzzled by his reaction to a woman in his life while Laura wondered what it was about William Adama that made her feel so perpetually uncomposed. Whatever inexplicable spark passed between them that first night when they had initially met at Lee and Kara's engagement dinner, it had not dissipated. If anything, it had only become more potent during this second meeting.

Thankfully, Lee saved the day. He clasped Laura's arm and pulled her gently over to him as he whispered in here ear, "Kara's just over there, Laura," he smiled, gesturing with his head toward Kara who was grinning and waving madly at her mother with an expression that clearly read, _What just happened with you and Adama?_

"Don't you dare ask," Laura said when she reached Kara and enfolded her daughter in a soft hug.

Kara giggled mischievously. Her eyes glittered. "Won't ask; won't tell. I thought that Lee was going to have to put out a fire." She raised an arched eyebrow at her flustered mother.

"Very funny," Laura seethed. "It was all of those camera flashes," she explained. "They can be so… distracting."

"Sure it was. I mean – you're _so_ _unaccustomed_ to them."

"Kara – "

"Okay, okay," laughed Kara. "Let's go get this boring dinner thing over with so we can get to the real fun." She and Lee steered Laura toward the festivities.

"Madame Secretary –"

Laura turned to see Billy waving at her wearing a stricken expression. Standing next to him was Richard's assistant, Mr. Brenner who wore an especially sour expression.

"You two go ahead," Laura advised Kara and Lee. "I'll be in in a few minutes."

"I'll make sure the admiral saves you a dance," giggled Kara as she latched onto her fiancé and widened her eyes at her mother.

Laura ignored her. But Kara's playful teasing was forgotten when she looked at Billy's serious face.

"Something wrong?" Laura asked.

Billy opened his mouth to respond but he was interrupted by Brenner.

"Everything's fine, Madame Secretary," Mr. Brenner assured her. "For security reasons, you will be staying aboard _Galactica_ rather than returning to Colonial One. We'll settle everything after the celebration. Nothing to be concerned about. Truly. Billy, you go on ahead. I'll escort Ms. Roslin inside."

Billy made no movements to proceed. Instead, he looked at Laura.

"It's all right, Billy. Enjoy the party; I'll see you shortly," she assured him.

Billy nodded. "I'll be just inside."

Laura smiled. "Thank you, Billy."

Brenner watched the young man walk away. "You do have a knack for attracting devoted followers, Ms. Roslin."

Laura turned sharply to face the president's Chief of Staff. "What's going on? My daughter is on this ship. If _Galactica _isn't safe…."

Brenner sighed. "We are quite safe. Mr. Keikeya merely misunderstands."

"And what exactly does Mr. Keikeya misunderstand, Mr. Brenner?"

Brenner sighed. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Adar had wanted to catch Laura off guard; it was supposed to look like an oversight. If Billy hadn't overheard Brenner discussing things with the liason from _Galactica_, he could have pretended that with the crowded ship, it was merely an error - her having to share quarters with the president. But Brenner knew that Laura Roslin wasn't stupid so he opted for discreet honesty. "Mr. Keikeya didn't realize that your change of accommodations had nothing to do with a security breach but rather with the personal wishes of the President." Brenner regarded her meaningfully.

Laura understood. Richard wanted to be alone with her and he had asked Mr. Brenner to move her into his quarters. He wasn't there for the decommissioning ceremony. Richard was there for _her_.

"Yes well – that will be impossible," fumed Laura. "If the ship is, as you say, unexpectedly overcrowded – then I'll stay with my daughter. No need to inconvenience the president. You may tell him that I appreciate his hospitality but I have made other arrangements."

"As you wish, Madame Secretary." Brenner bowed his head officiously and strode down the corridor.

Laura was still seething when she arrived at the celebration. She was so furious at Richard that she couldn't even look at him. To make matters worse, she was seated right next to him, and this regrettable seating arrangement made it impossible for her to completely ignore him as she was seated at a table with military and other political dignitaries. Bill Adama sat across from her. Laura plastered a shining smile on her face and played the part of politician and happy mother-in-law-to-be while inwardly, she struggled against a mixture of anger and self-reproach.

Richard knew Laura well enough to realize that beneath her smiling veneer, she was upset. After the second round of drinks, and after he'd danced with a couple of other women, lest he look like he was singling out the pretty Secretary of Education, he escorted Laura to the dance floor.

"Everything all right?" he asked, leaning toward her ear.

"No, it isn't," she flared. "You deliberately – "

" – not here," Richard cautioned. "At least let me apologize." He felt her stiffen. "Laura, please….meet me in the observation room in five. Yates will escort you." Yates was one of the men who handled Richard's security.

It was easy to slip away unnoticed from the bustling party. The observation room turned out to be Laura's favorite part of _Galactica_. The wide windows afforded a view of the stars. They glittered silver against the stark black endlessness of space and somehow they made her feel less alone. Richard was leaning against the easternmost wall when she entered.

He motioned his head toward the view, his face still in profile. "It's pretty magnificent, isn't it?" he breathed.

Laura sighed, refusing to get lost in the scenery. "What do you want, Richard?"

He turned to face her then, looking at her squarely in that intent, magnetic way of his. "I don't think you have any idea how much I've missed you." He shifted, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Why can't we just go back to the way things were?"

"Because we can't."

"That isn't an answer." He took a few steps toward her.

"You'll have my resignation on your desk in the morning."

Richard stopped. He looked startled. It wasn't a card that he had expected her to play. He frowned. "With an election year coming up? Laura…." He took her hand into both of his. "I need you."

Laura pulled her hand away. "I won't do this anymore, Richard." She swallowed. "I can't." It would be so easy to simply give in. Richard was and always had been a shining distraction from the stifling loneliness that had seeped in when Kara was away, after the drunk driver had taken her father and her sisters. The cancer had only made things worse, a terrible reminder of what she'd been through with her mother and that inevitable, irrevocable loss. Laura had half hoped in some deep, secret part of herself that maybe it was a battle that she wouldn't win. If Kara hadn't pulled her back – she probably wouldn't have.

"Do you know who Brenner thinks should run for vice-president with me?" Richard continued, not missing a beat.

Laura turned to go, ignoring him.

Richard knew that his next words would stop her in her tracks so he made no motion to detain her.

"You, Laura."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Lee nodded repeatedly as one of his father's colleagues droned on exuberantly over Lee's choice of law school and the benefit of his military experience rounding out his background. "You know – the military needs lawyers." He clapped Lee on the back good naturedly. "Just something for you to think about." Kara listened to Lee's deftly polite response. He always seemed to know just what to say under any circumstances. Socially, Kara was all sharp angles and irregular indentations while Lee was like a polished piece of stone – not forged by artifice or craft - but through the chance whims of nature. It was that easy sincerity that won people over. Of course, those amazingly blue eyes and dimpled smile didn't hurt either. He could just as easily have been a politician as a lawyer, reflected Kara, as she glanced uneasily again at her mother's empty chair.

Laura had not been the same since the cancer. But, really, it had begun even before that. She had lost too many loved ones in far too short a space of time. Laura's mother had faced a long battle against her own cancer but the disease had cut her life short, despite her valiant efforts. And then just a couple of years later, the drunk driver took away Laura's younger sisters and her father in one fell swoop. Kara had grown up in a house full of music. After the accident, Laura's piano had fallen eerily silent. Her mother blamed it on tendonitis in her left wrist but Kara knew that it was a flimsy lie. It had never stopped her mother from playing before. Instead, Laura poured herself into politics with a fierce tenacity that had kept her mind numbingly busy and constantly working. Laura insisted that she was "fine." She even managed to occasionally make it look good – but Kara observed, sadly, that there was an essential spark that her mother had always possessed that had gone prematurely dark.

And Kara didn't know how to fix it.

"Stop fidgeting," Lee whispered teasingly in her ear once his father's colleague disappeared into the crowd, giving him and Kara a rare moment of privacy in what had been a very busy evening. Lee followed Kara's gaze.

"I'm sure she's fine," he promised reassuringly as he tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. When Kara continued to frown, Lee gave her hand a squeeze. "Would it help if I went to go check on her?"

Kara sighed. "It's that drunk from the parking lot the night that we were at the restaurant. It reopened a lot of scars that never healed in the first place. And she's looked unhappy all night long. Would you? If I go, it'll just put her on the defensive but you can be smooth –"

Lee chuckled. "Flattery will get you everywhere. I'll go work my magic." He squeezed out of his chair and rose from the crowded table.

Kara rolled her eyes. "Arrogant much?"

Lee mouthed a teasing, "You like it," before vanishing into the crowd.

* * *

Richard barely suppressed a satisfied smile as Laura froze mid-stride after he pronounced that she was a proposed candidate for the vice-presidency. It wasn't true, although as Adar considered it, he realized that it was a stroke of genius. She was beautiful, likeable, a fantastic speaker, and unfalteringly incisive when the need arose. Laura was more formidable than she realized – if still a trifle naïve – but that, too, was part of her political appeal. Brenner would never approve because the scandal of their affair would be a far too risky liability. As discreet as they had been, if Laura appeared on the ticket with him, their opponents would pry doggedly into every little detail of her life. But truth wasn't important right now. Getting Laura to stay was Richard's sole purpose, and like everything he pursued that he wanted, the means were far less important than the end. He watched her turn slowly to face him.

"I don't want the vice-presidency," she said stiffly. She realized, as she said the words, how deeply she meant them.

Richard sighed. He had been moving progressively closer to her. "You can't just resign before an election year." He smiled that coaxing smile that had once had the power to make her heart flutter and her pulse race. "A few more months. I'll give you your space, I promise."

"We both know that this ended months ago, Richard."

Adar swept his eyes intimately over the slope of her neck and let them linger on her mouth before looking into her eyes. "We've ended it before and we always go back," he reminded her.

It wasn't the right thing to say and it was a mis-step that would cost him. It was true. From the first, he had finally gotten her into bed after a night of heart choking grief, a bottle and a half of wine, and a lot of tears. Laura was beginning to see the pattern of their relationship for what it was; Richard had been her drug of choice after the accident and their unhealthy bond had only been more fully fortified when she had confided to him alone the secret of her cancer. The sex had been good but it was just sex. Richard had made her feel something when she had felt numb from the inside out - but like any high it didn't last - and in the end it had done nothing to alleviate the looming vastness of the void. It only kept it at bay for a short time. She had to end the cycle once and for all. She didn't like giving up her position in office like this but it was clear that they couldn't work together.

"You'll have no trouble finding a replacement for me," Laura said matter-of-factly. Richard grasped the dual meaning in her coolly modulated voice. He perceived the steady flicker of resignation on her face and he knew that he had lost her, irrevocably. He nodded, slowly, his mouth a flat line. For once, Richard didn't have a swift, easy comeback.

"Gods, but I will miss you," he told her finally. Whatever else he had said tonight – that much was true. "For old time's sake," he murmured, taking her by surprise as he cupped her face, leaned forward, and kissed her.

It was that fleeting kiss that Lee observed when he finally found Laura in the dimly lit observation room.

* * *

The band was playing a slow love song when Lee returned to the festivities with the smooth sound of the saxophone taking prominence during the bridge. Kara was singing along, her expression much brighter than when he had left her. Lee sat down.

"You were gone a long time," she accused.

"Lot of people here," explained Lee. "I uh….I couldn't find her," he lied.

"Oh, that's okay," twittered Kara breezily. "Somebody else did." Lee followed Kara's happy gaze to the dance floor. He spotted Laura's unmistakable cascade of red hair. She was dancing.

With his father.

"I'm sorry you missed it," continued Kara. "He asked her. She said yes. They look good together, don't you think?"

Lee nodded mutely and picked up his empty wine glass to take a sip, putting it down with a loud thud when he realized that he had already finished the glass.

"She likes him, you know," continued Kara," as she leaned over to chatter in his ear so that he could hear her above the music.

"How do you know?" Lee asked soberly.

Kara whacked her fiancé on the arm and let out a brash laugh. "Oh, Lee….come on! You've seen them together. There's a spark. We could help it catch fire."

Lee continued to watch Laura and his father doubtfully. There was more space between them than any other couple on the dance floor. The bubble of an image floated across Lee's mind that consisted of the President with his hands cupping Laura's face and his mouth….

"And we finally have the table to ourselves," continued Kara. "Adar and his stuffy entourage left."

Laura's personal life wasn't any of his business, Lee reflected. As soon as he had trespassed on what was obviously a very intimate moment, Lee high tailed it out of there; he was pretty certain that the couple hadn't seen him. He'd purposefully taken the scenic route getting back. Kara obviously didn't know about her mother and the President and he didn't have the heart to tell her. She'd never liked Adar.

"I don't think we should meddle, Kara," said Lee. "If they like one another, they'll figure it out on their own."

Kara made a raspberry sound with her lips. "You are way too serious."

Lee looked once again from Kara to his father and Laura dancing their overly polite dance and flagged down a waiter.

He needed another drink.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

As she made her slow return to the party, Laura was determined not to allow her discussion with Richard to permeate the remainder of her evening. She had spent far too long already allowing him to overshadow her decisions and to influence her choices. It was time to steer another course, time to start living again and to cease merely going through the motions. Sometimes it's easier to simply "get by" than to face the beast head on. She didn't want to be content with survival; she wanted to live. Although she didn't know exactly what that meant or what direction she was headed, she was certain about one thing – anything was better than the persistent numbness that she had settled for.

Maybe she didn't love Richard. Maybe she never had. But love him or not, the man knew how to nudge her where she was vulnerable, right up to the bitter end. He always made it so damned hard to leave. It was difficult to look back on the scattered debris of their relationship and admit that it had been built on a lot of wishful thinking. It would be easier to do what she'd been doing for the last year and a half, nibble absently on the lotus flower, and simply believe in the kiss. The reality was a lot harsher.

But at least it was the truth. She could start with that.

When she had finally returned to her table, Laura had found the seats over half empty. A waiter collected empty dessert plates and crumpled napkins while couples meandered to the dance floor for one final dance before the band finished their last set.

"Is that ankle of yours healed enough for a dance?" Laura turned to face the sound of the voice behind her, although she knew immediately to whom it belonged without having to look. His eyes were bluer than she remembered, such a deep azure, the cobalt blue of a winter ocean, brisk against a pebbled shore - only infinitely warmer.

She met his eyes. "Are you asking?"

He wasn't sure which mesmerized him more – the lyrical sway of her voice or the way he simply enjoyed watching her lips move. He didn't want to even begin to analyze why he was so fascinated with her mouth. "Do you always answer a question with a question?" he rumbled gruffly.

She tilted her head to the side, considering. A speculative half-smile flitted unbidden across her features. It was like watching a stream of sunlight peeking out from behind a cloud. "Don't all politicians, Bill?"

Bill grinned. "Only the ones who want to stay in office." He offered her his arm. Laura accepted the gesture by tucking her own arm into the crook of his in one graceful motion.

They reached the dance floor and assumed the traditional posture for a slow dance. Bill rested his right hand against the small of her back while his other hand clasped hers, drawing her closer. Laura's hand slid into place against his shoulder. Their stance was polite, modest even – admiral and Secretary of Education, father of the groom and mother of the bride-to-be. There was no reason then, nothing in their well-mannered posture to account for the heady current that swept over them both, stopping all conversation and making them suddenly awkward. They counterbalanced for it with stiffness and a concerted mutual effort not to draw too close. An uncomfortable silence settled over them that was all the more pronounced after the light banter that preceded it.

Bill cleared his throat.

"My ankle _is_ better," Laura affirmed quickly, simply to fill the silence.

"Good to hear, Madame…." Bill paused, took a breath…."Laura."

They avoided one another's eyes and tried not to think about why. Laura promised herself that the tiny shiver that sped through the nerve endings of her spine was merely a repercussion of frayed nerves after her heated exchange with Richard. Her emotions were high – that was it. She had a letter of resignation to write and a whole lot of explanations to give on Monday. Bill convinced himself that the quickening of his pulse was due to the reality of retirement finally hitting him square in the chest. It wasn't because of two luminous eyes, impossibly green, and inexplicably familiar – that he wanted to immerse himself in. And Laura refused to entertain the reckless notion that what she really wanted was for the man who held her so lightly to pull her closer. It made no sense. They barely knew one another. They were mature, seasoned. These whirlwind feelings had no basis. It was far better – far wiser to push them down, ignore them, suppress them.

The song had ended. Other couples were beginning to separate, chatting easily as they moved back to their tables to retrieve pocketbooks and other odds and ends or to say final goodbyes. Laura and Bill missed a beat somehow, lagging behind the rest.

"I'm glad you could come," said Bill as they separated.

"I'm – yes – thank you. Congratulations again." They avoided another handshake and simply nodded at one another. When they returned to the table, Kara was smiling like the cat who had swallowed the canary while Lee looked like he wanted the floor to open up and engulf him; he wouldn't meet Laura's eyes. If Kara didn't look so happy, Laura would have sworn that they had argued. She frowned.

Laura was so distracted and off-centered after her haphazard dance with Bill that she merely accepted Kara's exuberant hug with a maternal smile and a soft goodnight, refusing the heartfelt invitation to join Kara and Lee at one of Galactica's lounges. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and get off this gods-damned ship first thing in the morning, pen her resignation letter, and get her life back on track, preferably with her sanity still intact.

It was only a few moments later that Laura remembered that she had nowhere to sleep tonight. She had completely forgotten to touch base with Kara – who had probably already arranged to share a room with Lee. It wasn't a big deal. _Galactica_ was a large ship. No doubt she could find some quiet little unobtrusive corner to catch a catnap. She was scheduled to leave at 7 AM. Laura glanced at her watch. Only hours away. She gave her tired eyes a cursory rub; sleep was overrated anyway.

* * *

Bill was glad to see the festivities wind down. There were too many people wandering around disturbing his late night jaunt around the ship. He felt particularly restless tonight. It was surreal to him that in another forty-eight hours, he would never roam these gleaming corridors again. There was nothing quite like the hum and pulse of a battleship. He'd miss the old girl and he wondered what shape his life would take now that the role that had always defined him was dissolving. He wasn't sure he knew how to be anything else. It was time to go but like most goodbyes, it was a bittersweet parting.

It was that desire for solitude that drew him to the deserted alcove across the foredeck. But as soon as he saw her, as soon as he felt something in his chest simultaneously tighten and soften when his eyes rested on that tumbling sweep of red hair – Bill wondered why on a ship over half a mile long, why in the name of the blessed gods would he have to run into her? She was curled up, eyes closed, cheek resting against her hand, glasses in her lap. She had a pianist's hands – long, elegant tapered fingers. Graceful. Lee had heard her play once, a few years ago when he and Kara had started dating. Bill wondered what she was like at the piano.

_She's a little too expensive for you, Bill, don't you think? Practically Caprican nobility. What would she want with a working-class hack from Tauron?_ Carolanne in his head. Perfect. That was exactly what Bill needed right now.

He told himself to walk away. A myriad of good, solid reasons even accompanied the advice but Bill's mutinous vocal cords had a mind of their own.

"Madame Secretary." His deep, rich baritone echoed in the small alcove.

Her eyes flew open as she took him in with that first furtive glance. "Frak," she murmured.

Bill almost smiled. It was such an honest reaction – unpolished, completely unguarded, and very human. It was pretty much the same thing that he'd wanted to say the moment he saw her dozing on his ship.

"I was sleeping," she informed him curtly by way of explanation.

"I noticed. The ship might not be state of the art but we do have sleeping quarters." Bill realized that he probably sounded like an arrogant son-of-a-bitch. He really hadn't meant to. There was just something about Laura Roslin that made him want to press her buttons.

Laura sat up abruptly, grabbing her glasses and putting them on hurriedly. She reached for her purse, one of those fancy little black things with a designer label etched in gold lettering on the bottom. Bill wondered how she fit anything of any significance in it. She stood up and slipped her feet back into her shoes.

"Thanks for the tip, Admiral," she huffed. Her shoes made a staccato tap against the floor as she retreated.

"Laura…." She didn't stop so Bill continued. "You're headed toward the elevator that will take you down to the brig." She stopped then and turned.

"I am?" Her expression softened.

Bill smiled. It was a kind smile; he wasn't mocking her. He nodded. "You are. Come on. Where did they put you? I'll take you to your room."

It was the wrong thing to say, although Bill didn't know why. But he could see it. Anger flashed in those expressive green eyes. She was Lee's future mother-in-law. He was being a gentleman, offering to escort her where she needed to go. How the hell was that the wrong thing? He wanted to throw his hands up in frustration. What the frak did this woman want anyway?

"There was a mix-up," Laura said slowly. "An oversight. I don't have a room. But I'm fine. I don't need one. I'm leaving early and I'm not tired anyway. I just needed a little power nap."

It didn't make sense that Laura wouldn't have a room – not with her political clout and the fact that she was traveling with Adar's little retinue but Bill decided not to press her. "Come on," he coaxed. "Do you know where your things are?"

_Probably with the President's Chief of Staff or already in Adar's room_. But Laura didn't tell Bill that. "No. Really, Bill, I'm fine. I can take care of myself."

"Kind of the way you took care of yourself at Altura?" He could still see the headlights of that car as it careened sickeningly toward her and it still made him angry as hell every time he thought about it.

Laura stormed past Bill in the opposite direction of the elevator. She'd follow the signs to a lounge and wait out the rest of the evening. As long as her feet carried her as far away from Bill Adama as possible, she would be a happy woman. The morning would come soon enough and she would take a shuttle off this thing and go back to Caprica where she belonged.

And with any luck, she could avoid the admiral and the unwelcome torrent of things that he made her feel until the wedding – or longer. She'd prefer indefinitely. But right now, she'd settle for even a few hours of clarity to get her head on straight.


End file.
